


Rivals

by sharlleglerg



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, death mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25404184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharlleglerg/pseuds/sharlleglerg
Summary: Max Verstappen told Charles Leclerc that he liked him.And Charles threw up.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	Rivals

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [宿敌](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25427827) by [sharlleglerg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharlleglerg/pseuds/sharlleglerg). 



> Hi everyone! So this is my first attempt at writing. I'm like only know 8000 words in English. Sorry in advance for any grammar errors and lousy word choices. Hope you could understand and enjoy it. I could really use some advice.  
> The story is based on 2019, entirely fiction. Hope I didn't offend anyone.

"Am I really that annoying?" Max asked.

Lando raised an eyebrow and answered, "Wow! I can't believe it! Max Verstappen has grown a conscience! Finally! What happened?"

Max blushed, ruffled his hair irritably, and replied, "Nothing. It's just I sort of confessed to my secret crush."

Lando's mouth grew wide in surprise, "I like this. It's getting amusing. A blunt guy like you would have a secret crush! Did you get rejected?"

"Worse, he threw up."

"Hahahahahahah!" Lando burst out laughing and then covered his mouth as he saw the anger in Max's eyes, "Sorry, mate. It's just really hard for me to imagine the scene. What kind of person could say no to the young, rich and handsome you?"

Max shook his head. That's definitely not an ordinary guy.

* * *

Bahrain.

Charles crouched on the floor, cleaning up his vomit with a towel as he fought through nausea. His eyes still out of focus and couldn't believe what just happened.

Max Verstappen, his rival, had just confessed to him.

The hot and humid weather in Bahrain was already making him very uncomfortable, and the unfortunate loss of the championship was making him feel even more down. So when Max said "I like you", he didn't have time to react, just felt a tumbling in his stomach, and threw up right away.

He looked up at Max, whose face was a mixture of shock, sadness, and shame. And before he could say anything, Max was already turning away like a storm and slammed the door heavily.

After cleaning the floor, Charles sat back on the couch as if he had used all his energy. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. MAX? LIKES? ME? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

The two have been battling it out on the karting track since they were teenagers, and Max won most of the races until he was 17 years old and been promoted into F1. Then Charles began to shine the light which had previously been obscured. Now, they are reunited on the F1 grid, still on opposite sides.

Last year, he didn't have a competitive car. So naturally, he was once again left far behind. Now, he has came to Ferrari. Maybe he was trying to mess with his head? Charles stopped thinking about the nonsense.

* * *

Austria.

Max leaned back on the couch and licked the bitter champagne that remained on his lips. Yes, bitter. The angry look in Charles' eyes, the pain expression, the frustrated figure, all lingered in his mind.

While in the drivers' lounge, he tried to explain to him that it had really been just a typical track accident. But Charles didn't even glance at him and walked right out of the room. On the podium afterward, he left without even spraying champagne to celebrate.

Don't get him wrong. On track he only cared about the car in front and how to overtake, not who's in the car. If he were given another chance, he'd still attack without hesitation. He just didn't want to experience a podium like that again.

Max rubbed his face, which was heating up because of annoyance, and took off his racing suit, ready to take a shower. Suddenly, the door was slammed open, and he was pinned against the wall before he could see who it was.

"What the fuck have you done? Asshole!" Those green eyes were a little red because of anger.

Oh, Charles. Max struggled a bit as Charles' forearm against his throat, keeping him from talking.

He cleared his throat, "Hey, listen, I'm sorry for how you're feeling right now, but not for what I did."

"You self-righteous—" Charles' unfinished sentence dropped in Max's mouth. And he couldn't be blamed for that. He's so close, within reach, and only if he didn't act would make him regret.

Charles was shocked for a second and then bit hard on Max's lower lip. "Ssshhh—" Max cried out in pain, then was pushed and his head hit the wall very hard.

He was a bit dizzy and then slipped down along the wall. "I'm sorry. I—" There was a loud bang, and this time it was Charles who slammed the door and left.

* * *

What the hell was he thinking? Asshole! He was so angry, and he'd actually kissed him under the circumstance. Charles tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep.

His phone on the bedside table buzzed, and the screen lit up. Charles picked it up and skimmed. Yeah, sure, what other assholes would disturb someone's sleep this late?

Max: Sorry.

Max: I shouldn't have done that without your permission.

Max: If you don't have the same feelings for me, I won't make you and bother you anymore, and I won't tell anyone about it.

Max: If you can't sleep and want to grab a drink, I'll be in the lobby.

Is he stupid? Out of seven billion people, the last thing he wants to see is that smug face. Charles turned off the phone and buried his head in the pillow.

* * *

In the lobby, Max sipped alone. A bunch of guys in orange walked in.

"Hey, Max!" Lando trotted up to him, " What's up? Does the joy of winning keep you awake?"

Lando finished 6th in the race, tying his career-best. So he must have just gone to celebrate with his team.

Max laughed bitterly, "How? It's not like this is the first time I won."

Lando covered his chest and said, “Harsh! You really are annoying!”

Max didn't reply, continuing to immerse himself in his wine.

"Is this because of your crush, still going nowhere? Just find someone else, mate." Lando gave him a shove.

"You don't get it."

Lando made the face that he'd been shot, "So mean! I just haven't met the one yet," patting Max's shoulder, he said, "don't overthink and have a nice sleep. You need to catch a flight tomorrow." With that, he turned into the elevator room.

The lobby was quiet again, and Max looked up at the clock, his phone screen on the counter not once lighting up, shaking his head helplessly.

* * *

England.

They battled on the track for a dozen laps, and this time it was Charles who pushed him off track. What a petty boy, to come back with a vengeance so soon. Max shook his head and laughed.

Even though he never got any response or even a look from Charles again, it had been immensely satisfying to be able to race with him as an opponent on track.

* * *

Germany.

Max felt like he had to do something. He did say he wouldn't bother Charles again, but hearing the words "Come on, Charles" from team radio made his heart contract sharply.

He hovered at the door of Charles' room, wondering if he should knock or not. But if he continued to stand there, he might be caught by a passing Ferrari engineer.

Just as he plucked up his courage, the door opened. Charles was startled for a second to see Max, then ignored him and walked toward the elevator.

Max hesitated momentarily and then followed him, "Hey, I know I told you that I wouldn't bother you again. But if you want to have a drink with someone, I'm always available."

As he waited for the elevator, Charles finally looked at him, "Are you always an asshole, or only when you win a trophy?"

Max was shocked that Charles had finally willing to talk to him, but he didn't know how to respond to that and scratched his head in embarrassment.

The elevator door opened, and Charles walked in without hesitation, Max tried to follow but tripped over the warning in Charles' eyes.

"Ugh!" Max let out a long sigh.

* * *

Belgium.

The news of Anthoine's death came to Max. He didn't know him well but knew he was a close friend of Charles'. How sad Charles must be right now, and as much as he wanted to rush to his room, hug him, comfort him, there was just too much going on for both of them before the race. So he forced himself to focus on the upcoming team debrief.

Charles won. He had done it, dedicating his first F1 win to his best friend, who had sadly passed away. Max had mixed feelings. He was happier than winning as worried about whether Charles could get over the haze of his best friend's death.

This time, he went straight to the door and knocked.

"Who's it?"

"Me, Max."

There was silence in the door, and for a while, Max didn't think Charles would open it. But the next moment he saw Charles' sad face, with undried teardrops.

"Are you crying?" Max's heart ached, "Can I come in? I will be quiet. It's just I thought it would be better to have someone with you right now."

Charles turned and walked back into the room, curling up on the couch, with his head buried between his knees.

Max closed the door and went to sit beside him, gently taking Charles by the shoulders.

He felt Charles' body tremble slightly as he patted his back softly, "Let it out, don't hold it."

Charles' body shook violently, and a sob came from between his knees. Max couldn't help but pull him closer so that Charles' head could rest on his chest.

"I don't understand why they all keep leaving me, Jules, Dad, Anthoine...I couldn't take it anymore..." Charles muttered.

"You can do it. You're the strongest person I've ever met." Max stroked his back, comforting him.

"But I don't want to be strong..." sobbed Charles.

"I'm right here with you, always."

Charles calmed down and actually fell asleep in the arms of his rival.

Max looked at him worriedly, whose eyelashes still stained with a little teardrop, trembling softly. He cupped his lips over them lightly, wiping the teardrop away. Although the large moist area of his shirt made him uncomfortable, he was willing to give up everything to make this moment last longer.

Later, Charles finally woke up and found himself still leaning against a warm chest. "Hey," Max whispered to his ear and he popped up as quickly as if he'd been electrocuted, his face turning red instantly. He felt like a boiling kettle, with all the heat gathering around his head.

Max struggled to move his numb body, "Are you OK? Feeling any better?"

"Th...Thanks." Charles found it very hard to open his mouth.

"I hope you could know, off the track, I'd do anything for you."

Charles' eye widened in surprise, then he laughed at himself, "Max, don't play mind games with me. We're not even friends, so where the hell does your so-called 'like' come from?"

Max lowered his head, "I...I don't know. I never stopped watching you, even though I was in F1 and you were still in the lower classes, so that can't be explained by jealousy." Charles rolled his eyes.

"I would come to the pit lane early and sneak a peek at your race. I knew that you would always get into F1, so I convinced myself that it was to get to know my future competitor. I tried relationships with others, that didn't work; my heart was always focusing on you. The rivalry of youth festered over the years, turned into a much stronger feeling than hatred. I would be happy for every success you made and sad for every loss you had. I can't resist my heart," Max looked straight into those green eyes, "Charles Leclerc, I've been fascinated by you, for a long time."

Charles also looked him in the eye, with a scrutinizing gaze, trying to verify the realness of his words, "What do you want me to say? Do you know that I'm with someone else right now?"

Max felt his throat tighten and the shame made him want to flee the room immediately, "No...no, you don't have to say anything, and I would never jeopardize your relationship. I just want you to know how I feel about you. Charles, I've never hated you."

"Me either. What happens on track should stay on track. I'm sorry about Austria. I lost it."

"It's OK. I wouldn't be surprised if you do hate me."

"You should go now."

"Oh...OK, you should get some rest. I'm sorry for your loss."

Charles's eyes darkened again, which made Max want to slap himself. He didn't have the nerve to look into those eyes, just fled away from the room.

* * *

Hearing the phone buzzed, Max, who couldn't sleep, picked it up irritably.

Lando: You know what? One more bachelor in the paddock.

Max: Why are you so gossipy, who's it?

Lando: Chaaaaaaaarles! Can't believe it, they've been dating for so long. I thought they'd be engaged!

Max sat up sharply, his heart pounding wildly.

Max: What happened?

Lando: Who knows, it looks like Charles wants to focus on the race.

Max tried to send Charles a text, deliberating over every word, but deleting the letters one by one. Who is him to say anything about it? Charles never gave him any response. Max smiled bitterly and threw away the phone, burying himself in the pillow.

* * *

Charles didn't know what he was thinking. Max's words had always echoed in his mind since that day. Maybe the feelings were mutual? His focus on him, not because of grudge or competition, but...?

No. Monza, the most important race of the year is coming, he couldn't allow himself to think about it anymore.

* * *

Italy.

"Hi, how are you?" Charles, who had just finished his interview, found Max with a timid smile right behind him.

"I'm alright now, thanks."

"Oh...that's great," Max muttered.

"Come here." Charles motioned for Max to lean his ear over.

Max was surprised, but still obeyed and lowered his head.

Charles' whisper rang in his ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps on Max's neck, "If I can achieve Ferrari's first championship here in nearly a decade, I'll consider your words."

Max froze on the spot while Charles turned away. What did he mean? Was that what he thought it meant? Max looked up to the sky. The sun was dazzling and made him feel dizzy.

Charles had won again, and his dominant performance on track was amazing. Max was happy to see him celebrating on the podium, but at the same time, he couldn't help but remember his words and wanted to rush up to the podium right away to ask him.

* * *

Max paced anxiously around his room, wondering how long the Ferrari celebration would last. From his own experience at Red Bull Ring, it could be as late as midnight. He couldn't resist sending a text to Charles.

Max: Let me know when you get back.

The reply arrived soon.

Charles: Open the door.

Max was shocked, "Hold on!" He shouted and ran into the bathroom to wash his face, scratched his hair with hair wax, and spray some perfume on his neck, making sure he looked good in the mirror before answering the door.

Charles' face was expressionless, a little red probably from excitement, and his hair was damp on his forehead, so it looked like he hadn't showered yet. Just thinking about it, Max got pushed away from him, and Charles walked in.

Max closed the door, and just as he turned around, he was pinned against the door by Charles, warm lips covered his own, the tip of the tongue still tasting of sweet champagne. Yes, sweet. Max responded passionately, not caring that he was close to suffocating. God, Charles Leclerc, his rival, the person he liked, was kissing him. He surreptitiously pinched his thigh, a sharp pain telling him this wasn't a dream.

After a long moment, Charles let go of him and just looking at him. Max obviously hadn't regained consciousness, maintaining his position against the door, his eyes out of focus.

"Hey, silly."

Max sobered up just then and looked Charles in the eye, "Congratulations, on winning Monza."

"Yeah, that's incredible, isn't it?"

"What's even more incredible is that you kissed me..."

"Your words has been haunted me since that day. I thought maybe I was like you. All these years I've been working toward F1, towards the championship. Take the competitiveness aside, I'm probably trying to get close to you."

Max stared, clearly flattered by Charles' word. "I...I never dared to think..."

Charles smiled, "Now that I've finally on the right track of winning, I don't mind being with someone I defeated."

"Well, be kind," Max smiled resignedly, "but I'll take the humiliation as long as I can be with you. And...I'll win back."

"Nice try."

* * *

Max lay on the soft sheets, Charles in his arms, breathing evenly. Though his body was exhausted, the excitement in his brain made it hard to sleep. CHARLES IS IN MY ARMS. He still couldn't believe it was real, even in his wildest dreams.

His phone on the bedside buzzed.

Lando: Hey mate, a drink?

Max: Sorry, someone needs my company.

Lando: You break my heart, you hiberdating bastard! You are officially not my friend anymore!

Max: Whatever.

Dropped the phone, Max raised his head to stamped a kiss on Charles' forehead. He didn't react, he's smiling in the dream, just don't know if it's the win or him. Max also closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I've been reading this again and again to modify my grammar errors and wrong wordings. Thank you for all the comments and kudos. Hope I can come with more chapters (or maybe one more) and soon.


End file.
